


A Way of Pleasing

by Sass_Master



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 11:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sass_Master/pseuds/Sass_Master
Summary: Castiel’s clearly not about to complain about Dean’s predilection for this particular act, but he can admit he finds it fascinating, another of Dean’s little quirks that he wants to investigate to the fullest even if he never arrives at a complete understanding.He’s lost track of how many times Dean has pulled him aside in the middle of the day and dragged him somewhere moderately private – maybe the backseat of the car, maybe a rest stop bathroom – like he couldn’t wait another second to get his mouth on Castiel.





	A Way of Pleasing

“Cas.”

Castiel stirs at the sound of his name. He’s reluctant, as always, to wake, but Dean’s voice deep and warm in his ear, husky with sleep and _something else_, instantly mollifies his irritation.

“Cas,” Dean murmurs again, pressed head to toe against Castiel’s side – not in that way he does when he’s half-awake or asleep altogether, unconsciously seeking contact, but with _intent_, lips trailing along Castiel’s jaw to his neck, hand caressing his chest and wandering further down.

Like this Castiel can feel that Dean is already desperately hard, still wearing his boxers but rutting gently against Castiel’s hip, breath hitching as if even that small amount of friction is too much.

When Castiel mutters his name in return, Dean seems to take that as confirmation that Castiel is awake and on board with the proceedings and hoists himself up to slip between Castiel’s legs. He leaves a quick kiss on Castiel’s collarbone, a few more along his sternum, and keeps working his way lower. He lingers at Castiel’s stomach for a moment, softly pressing his lips to the skin there, hands stroking Castiel’s thighs but not wandering further, though they both know there’s no mistaking what Dean’s really after.

Dean only manages to play coy for another few seconds before letting his fingers curl in the waistband of Castiel’s underwear, leaving another kiss just above it as his eyes flick up towards Castiel, brow raised in question. Castiel confirms his assent with an indulgent hum and a faint smile, relaxing against the pillow as Dean swiftly eases the garment down.

Castiel was already relatively hard just from sleep and Dean’s ministrations, but his arousal intensifies at the reverent way Dean looks at his cock when it’s finally bare, licking his lips in anticipation, squirming and grinding his no doubt equally insistent erection against the soft give of the memory foam, breath already shallow.

He wraps his fingers around Castiel in a sure, practiced grip, firm enough to feel good, but clearly not intended to go anywhere. Not yet, at least. Dean’s just appreciating the moment, savoring it for a beat or two, even though Castiel is certain that Dean is eager—because he _always_ is.

Castiel’s clearly not about to complain about Dean’s predilection for this particular act, but he can admit he finds it fascinating, another of Dean’s little quirks that he wants to investigate to the fullest even if he never arrives at a complete understanding.

He’s lost track of how many times Dean has pulled him aside in the middle of the day and dragged him somewhere moderately private – maybe the backseat of the car, maybe a rest stop bathroom – like he couldn’t wait another second to get his mouth on Castiel. Perhaps the physical sensation appeals to Dean; he seems to crave oral stimulation, whether it’s this or Castiel’s fingers filling his mouth or Castiel’s lips against his own.

Perhaps there are other elements that Castiel hasn’t uncovered yet, but he imagines that’s only a matter of time.

Dean leans in with purpose but then hesitates, hot breath ghosting over Castiel’s cock, making his jaw clench in impatience. He starts by trailing his lips along Castiel’s erection before he finally opens his mouth, alternating between fleeting flicks of his tongue and long, slow swipes. Castiel knows he’s just _warming up_, drawing this out for his own sake as much as Castiel’s. Dean’s hand is still steadily stroking the length of Castiel’s cock while he presses his tongue along the underside, attending to the sensitive spot beneath the head. He looks pleased when that makes Castiel’s cock twitch in his grip and happily laps up the bead of fluid that leaks from the tip.

Dean shuffles closer, gets comfortable and spreads out flat between Castiel’s legs. Castiel’s mesmerized by the rhythmic motion of Dean’s hips, not sure if it’s the tantalizing friction of the mattress or sheer enjoyment of this act that makes Dean’s eyes flutter closed when he finally seals his lips around Castiel properly, a sweet little noise in the back of his throat as he pushes forward, pulls back, working his hand and mouth until he's taken Castiel deep enough that he doesn’t even need his hand anymore, clutches at Castiel’s thigh instead.

Dean opens his eyes again when he’s worked up a steady pace, meeting Castiel’s gaze. It’s a wonder Castiel can ever last long through this, Dean’s mouth hot and soft around him, Dean looking up at Castiel, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy as if he’s the one experiencing the almost unbearable pleasure he’s giving Castiel.

Castiel can’t resist letting his fingers brush Dean’s face, thumbing at the stretched corner of Dean’s lips, ghosting along his cheek and sliding into his hair – petting gently, at first, then winding into the strands, drawing a whimper from Dean.

It’s not long before Dean breaks away, panting, hips rocking almost unconsciously. “Shit,” he gasps, idly stroking Castiel’s cock in absence of his mouth. “Do I have to—” he attempts, half-mindless. “Should I…?”

Castiel furrows his brow and waits for Dean to continue, feeling lost when he has nothing to add. “What?”

Dean swallows, eyes imploring. “Last night, you said…”

_Oh._ Now Castiel understands what Dean’s referring to.

_Last night_ they were in this situation, or close to it – Castiel seated at the foot of the bed, Dean kneeling before him, offering the pleasure of his mouth. As enjoyable as Dean’s efforts were, Castiel still found himself distracted by the motion of Dean’s hand between his own legs, palming himself through his jeans, the faint noises he emitted already rising in urgency. Castiel couldn’t help but think of all the times it was over for Dean before it began, before Castiel could get _his_ hands on Dean and return his thorough attentions.

Castiel tugged at Dean’s hair to get him to pull back, noting the clear reluctance at Dean’s face, the confusion and annoyance at being interrupted. Castiel pointedly cut his eyes towards Dean’s undone zipper, his questing fingers. “I wouldn’t mind the chance to take care of you,” Castiel said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t get to last time.”

Dean always got carried away with this so easily, and while Castiel did _immensely_ enjoy watching that, he’d still readily trade it for the chance to be the one who drove Dean to ecstasy.

It was meant to be a mostly lighthearted comment, but Dean looked genuinely embarrassed, cheeks flushing. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding especially contrite, despite his initial awkwardness. “Can’t help it.” As if to demonstrate, he leaned back in again, only to be impeded by Castiel’s firm grip on his hair.

“Hmm,” Castiel said, interest piqued by the way Dean squirmed. “I doubt that.”

“You know me, Cas,” Dean said with a faint smirk. “Never been good at the whole self-denial thing.”

“But what if _I_ denied you?” The words slipped out before Castiel could think them through, and he was almost taken aback by his own statement, but he dared to let it hang there and see what Dean would do.

Dean’s eyes widened, smirk fading away, apparently just as struck by Castiel’s words – but perhaps, Castiel realized, not in a bad way. He recovered quickly, fixing Castiel with a suspicious glare. “You wouldn’t.”

“Of course I would,” Castiel replied with a tone of conviction that he hadn’t entirely intended, running on auto-pilot. “In fact, I am.”

Dean’s defiance melted into petulance, practically pouting over the mere suggestion. “_Cas_,” he whined, but before he could continue to protest, Castiel cut him off.

Knowing exactly what Dean needed, he presented it as a challenge. “You really can’t control yourself?”

“I can,” Dean insisted.

“Then…” Castiel trailed off suggestively, eyeing Dean’s wandering hand again, a novel sense of satisfaction setting in when Dean drew it away from his lap, curled it into a fist against his thigh as if to restrain himself.

Dean looked up at him beseechingly. “How long?”

For a moment Castiel hesitated, not expecting that reaction, thrown by how quickly Dean capitulated, considering how resistant he was only a moment ago. “Until I say.”

“Fuck, okay,” Dean breathed, tapering into a laugh, the mischief returning to his eyes. “Look at you with the sexy rules.”

It was meant as a tease – a joke, ostensibly – but the pink tips of Dean’s ears were more than enough for Castiel to know how deeply Dean was affected by this turn of events.

Dean didn’t need much more coaxing than that, kept his hands to himself, so to speak, though Castiel could tell that even the pressure of his clothes stretched taut where he was hard and aching was almost unbearable. Like he could tip over the edge from that alone, and maybe he _could_, despite the parameters Castiel had set. Like doing this spoke to something deep and primal and hidden within Dean that had him succumbing to his arousal far sooner than usual.

Castiel suspected there was some truth to that.

And that realization also sparked something in _Castiel_ that he couldn’t properly discern yet, a newly discovered need that answered to Dean’s, almost had him abandoning the plans he had for Dean and losing himself in the heat of his mouth instead.

But despite his initial pouting, Dean was very… _good_ for the rest of the night, held himself in check just like Castiel asked. And how could Castiel not amply reward him for that? Press him down, slide inside him until he came shuddering against the pillow, spilling over Castiel’s fingers – and even after that, put his hands to work kneading out Dean’s tense muscles until he was a puddle of bliss under Cas’s touch, asleep in an instant once Castiel sidled up behind him and wrapped him tight in his arms, his heart bursting with affection and some burgeoning new feelings he hadn’t yet managed to name.

But it’s obvious now, Castiel thinks, mind snapping back to the present, that there’s still a part of Dean that’s been craving this, to enjoy this act so shamelessly and enthusiastically. And even so, still looking to Castiel for what’s allowed.

Dean’s a sight, lips spit-slick and swollen – Castiel’s attention is briefly diverted as he considers his response, dragging a thumb along the corner of Dean’s mouth, humming in appreciation when Dean turns his head to let Castiel push inside, press down on Dean’s tongue with the pad of his finger. “No,” he says eventually. “No…” he casts around for the terminology Dean used last night. He suspects he may need it more in the future. “_Rules_, right now, Dean.”

“_Right now_, huh?” Dean teases, as if Castiel’s the one who’s palpably eager, as if his intrigue weren’t plainly written on his face.

But Castiel doesn’t have the chance to investigate that before Dean returns to his task with renewed fervor, grinding against the bedding with less restraint.

Castiel knows countless ways to take Dean apart, _revels_ in the opportunity to do so, but it’s always compelling to watch Dean work himself into a frenzy of arousal with little direct input from Castiel.

Dean’s sloppier with his movements now that he’s close to orgasm, and the promise of seeing Dean come undone suddenly seems more enthralling to Castiel than his own climax.

Dean’s breathing has audibly sped up, body shaking when he finally pulls away again with a choked sob. He buries his face against Castiel’s hip, fingers digging into the muscle of his thigh – Castiel can hear and _feel_ the way Dean pants and whimpers, swears and gasps Castiel’s name against his skin, hips twitching frantically before he tenses on a punched-out groan, rides it out with slow rocking motions before stopping altogether.

Dean allows himself a few shaky breaths before lifting his face again, catching Castiel’s eye with a somewhat sheepish smile. He’s flushed and glowing with satisfaction and _heaven above_ he’s so exquisitely gorgeous. Castiel smiles back and brushes the sweat-damp hair off of Dean’s forehead, overwhelmed by that heady combination of arousal and affection that never fails to make his heart pound. “Okay?” he asks, trailing his fingers down to cup Dean’s cheek.

Dean hums in confirmation, nuzzling into Castiel’s palm for one brief, subdued moment before huffing out a short laugh, reaching down so he can slip out of his underwear and discard the now-ruined garment carelessly over the side of the bed. Castiel’s delighted by the extra skin on display and pushes the comforter down so he can see even more of Dean, admiring the marks from his own mouth visible on the back of his thighs.

Dean strokes Castiel again in almost idle admiration, barely grazing Castiel’s cock with his lips, eyes flicking upward with a playful glint.

Castiel growls in frustration, only somewhat exaggerated for effect. “So you’ve decided to be a tease now that you’ve been satisfied?” he asks, tugging on Dean’s hair. The imperious tone is mostly for Dean’s benefit – it seems to have such an effect on him – but Castiel is _aching_ with arousal at this point, and he certainly wouldn’t mind if Dean just got on with it.

“A tease, huh?” Dean grins at him. “C’mon, Cas, you know I always follow through.”

Castiel tugs on Dean’s hair again, just to watch the way his skin breaks out in goosebumps. “Go on then.”

Dean’s smirking at Castiel, but he still complies, because even boneless and spent, Dean is desperate for this. Undoubtedly there’s a lingering part of Dean that struggles with his true desires, that he enjoys this so greedily. But with Castiel, he puts those desires on flagrant display, and Castiel doesn’t take that vulnerability for granted.

Sometimes Dean is so wrecked by his own pleasure that he can barely move from the pillow, but this is something he always finds the motivation and energy for. Right now is no exception, and Castiel lets out a pleasured sigh as Dean attends to him with more focus now that he’s not distracted by his own delirious arousal.

Dean shifts into a better position and tries to take Castiel deeper, nudging his soft palate – he’s talked before about how he wants to _make it good_ for Castiel, but Castiel suspects that his own interests are at play here too. Dean has to draw back, coughing slightly, when he pushes a bit too far.

“Easy,” Castiel murmurs, thumbing at Dean’s sharp cheekbone, wiping away the tears threatening to spill.

Dean leans in again, but doesn’t try to push his limits this time. Castiel’s glad Dean heeded his advice – chastened, at least for the moment, but undoubtedly not deterred altogether. He’ll likely try again next time, and the time after that, until he’s mastered it. And a part of Castiel, the side that’s harder to suppress when he’s wound up like this, is looking forward to that, Dean taking so much of him, eyes watering but absolutely loving it.

Dean redoubles his efforts, not fooling around anymore; he’s impatient for the end, Castiel knows – not because he’s tired of doing this, of course, but because he’s eager to make Castiel come, earn his _reward_ for pleasuring Castiel so thoroughly.

Dean works him over with perfect speed and pressure, that devastating combination that makes Castiel swear under his breath, rolling his hips up to meet Dean halfway, chasing the bliss of Dean’s slick, soft mouth.

Castiel would tell Dean that he’s close, but he’s well aware that Dean already knows, doesn’t even want to be thrown off his rhythm long enough for Castiel to warn him, _wants_ Castiel to just chase his completion unimpeded because they both understand that this is where things have been headed all along.

Dean’s eyes lock with Castiel’s, still shining with desire, and suddenly it’s _too much_, that glorious, overwhelming tension that’s been building in Castiel’s stomach finally snapping.

He tips over the edge with a moan that Dean echoes when Castiel spills onto his tongue. Dean swallows everything Castiel has to give him, throat working around Castiel’s cock, and Castiel swears again at the heightened sensation, gasps Dean’s name.

Dean’s grinding against the bedding as if he could get off again – despite how weak he is for this, that’s not likely to happen, but it’s no doubt surprisingly close. He sighs in contentment, coaxing out the last feeble pulses and eagerly lapping them up. He keeps going until the stimulation becomes too much for Castiel and not a moment before, not willing to give this up any sooner than he has to.

Dean’s cheeks are pink, and he looks terribly pleased with himself, maybe even more satisfied than he did after his own orgasm – or perhaps just fully satisfied at last. Castiel thinks about that a lot, that it’s not just the act itself that Dean loves, but also giving Castiel pleasure with such dedication. Castiel appreciates the attention, that Dean is so invested in making him feel good, because the sentiment is very much mutual.

Dean relaxes with his head resting on Castiel’s stomach, and Castiel takes a moment just to observe him fondly, running gentle fingers through his hair. “That was _very_ nice,” he says, smiling to himself when Dean simply hums in agreement over his own enjoyment, rather than interpreting that remark as a compliment.

A few moments of easy silence pass before Castiel glances at the clock. “Should we get up?” he asks. It’s a genuine inquiry rather than a suggestion, considering the early hour. He wonders if Dean woke up sooner than usual just for this.

“Let’s give it a couple more hours,” Dean says with a lazy grin. “Then maybe we’ll go for round two.”

Castiel likes the sound of that idea, and he realizes, faintly surprised, that he has some ideas of his own. “Even…” he starts, slowly, testing a theory. “Even if there are rules?”

Dean shifts so he can look Castiel in the eye, grin still on his face. “_Especially_ if there are rules.”

Castiel wasn’t expecting Dean to be so candid about this, something Castiel’s long suspected and wondered about but ultimately couldn’t confirm with Dean being so guarded. Dean throws in an over-the-top waggling of his eyebrows, as if his confession is so casual, but the renewed flush on his cheeks betrays how terrifying it is for him to be so earnest. But he did it for Castiel anyway.

“Is that so?” Castiel asks in a low voice, intrigued. “Did… you have something in mind?” Already he’s probing for intel, determined to give Dean as good of a ‘wakeup call’ as he just gave Castiel.

“Hmm,” Dean muses, closing his eyes and tucking his face against the crook of Castiel’s neck, arm tightening around his waist, already drifting off. “Surprise me.”

And while Dean sleeps, Castiel perfects his plans for doing exactly that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me here on [tumblr](http://sass-master-stina.tumblr.com).
> 
> For anyone wondering, I will be returning to my WIP as soon as I can :)


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